Miss Elizabeth's Captive

by Chris Bellows

  Jamie’s blouse was silk, the devilish red of weeks prior was discarded for a charming and innocent white. Small bulges suggested that his tiny breasts with the puffy nipples had been stuffed into some type of training bra, plumping the limited mounds of flesh to emulate a pubescent girl.

  Then my eyes scanned what was the most significant difference. Jamie wore a skirt. No pretense about gender obscurity this time. The garment was very pretty, and a blue which matched his eyes and nail polish...and short. And I must emphasize short, the hem not even reaching halfway down the wondrously smooth and shapely thighs.

  Jamie finally curtsied, and I followed his downward gaze.

  Brief but high heeled footwear revealed a fine pedicure and matching blue toe nails. Thin straps of leather held the platforms in place by alluringly encircling and crisscrossing his calves to just below the knee. Somehow, though precariously perched on four inch heels, Jamie was able to move about. The awkward angle of his feet strained the leg muscles and enticingly presented his smooth calves in a way that defied his otherwise adolescent charm. Jamie was a study in contrast: from the waist up... schoolgirl; from the waist down... a schoolgirl doing her best to appear like an expensive hooker.

  Finally, Jamie raised his chin and spoke. “Good evening Mr. Sam,” the high pitched voice slurred, his tongue piercing continuing to impede speech. “Miss Elizabeth wants you in the examination room.”

  Jamie stepped aside and I entered without further delay. Though hesitant about returning to the scene of debauchery, I also remained concerned about an elevator mishap.

  I immediately headed for the examination room, listening to the taps of Jamie’s heels trying to keep up. I paused at the entrance to the hallway leading to the collection of bedrooms. I deliberately let Jamie go ahead. In the male world, watching is better than being watched, and my curiosity needed to see more of the blonde beauty.

  Just viewing the small but well formed buttocks strain the thin satin skirt was stimulating and the sight helped ease my mind.

  Though I had tried to prepare mentally for the return to Liz’s apartment, thinking about the videotape and the command to appear occupied much of my spare time over the past three days. Gym workouts helped, but Liz’s ominous promise of a surprise kept lingering. The arrival of the tape in my place of business was surprise enough.

  Entering the examination room, I noticed things that had gone unseen the prior week. I glanced to the ceiling and spotted the pulley used to tension my neck collar. Then realized that the lighting was most elaborate and resembled that seen in an operating room, designed to eliminate all shadows. In one corner behind the door was a toilet. Not unusual except for the size of the room in which it sat. Another corner had a shower fixture overhead and a drain beneath.

  Then I spotted the wrist and ankle cuffs awaiting me. Evilly comfortable, the fur lining designed for long term wear. As Jamie strolled to retrieve the collection of leather, short tiny balancing steps making his buttocks jounce, Friday night’s filmed ordeal flashed into my memory again.

  “Miss Elizabeth, she like bondage,” the ingenue sententiously explained, holding up a wrist cuff and presumptively expecting my compliance.

  I complied; of course, I complied. And in spurring the recollection of Friday by returning to the examination room, I realized I had no choice.

  Tiny hands with shining nail polish worked to encircle my right wrist. And that was the final trigger. The same hands had worked me on Friday, and if such was recorded on tape, whoever possessed the resulting images owned my soul.

  After listening to the sounds of ecstatic feminine pleasure, Liz and Jamie returned to where I helplessly hung, wrists and ankles secured, neck collar tensioned by cords emanating from an overhead pulley. Liz resumed her seat and retrieved the puffolator. She had a radiant smile, obviously basking in the afterglow of abundant sex, and squeezed to reintroduce my prostate gland to her controlling fingers.

  Jamie positioned himself at my side, looking down at Little Sam with giddy admiration. Yes, my penis still stood and was oozing pre-ejaculatory fluid. I could smell Liz’s musky fragrance, a combination of the rare perfume and feminine essence, drawn by his arduous tongue and lips from her love nest. And it was not until I saw the tape that I realized that where Jamie stood, the manner in which he positioned himself, completely revealed my front... my standing erection, my shaved pubes and low hanging testicles... to the hidden camera.

  Jamie was in on the conspiracy.

  “You’ve been very patient with us, Sam,” Miss Elizabeth smoothly announced. “And it’s been a long evening.”

  I had no idea of the time, but the passionate interlude which left me half hanging had indeed gone on for nearly on hour.

  “And Jamie has something for you. He’s very compassionate, as you well know.”

  And with that, it began.

  Jamie half turned his nakedness and thrust his penis into my side. He leaned slightly and grasped Little Sam with a lubricated hand. He began licking my ear. It felt good. I enjoyed the fragrance of Liz’s sex, though receiving it second hand. But I was revolted. During the long session of oral service, my machismo had returned, notwithstanding my ardent sucking and licking of Jamie’s nipples.

  But despite my repugnance, Little Sam defied me. He sent inordinate pleasure signals to my cortex. Jamie was not only skilled at fellatio. He had a talented touch.

  But then the fun and games began in earnest. The tiny manicured hand pushed downward, angling Little Sam toward the floor. And then he stroked. And then Liz pulled on the pulley. And then Liz squeezed the puffolator. All this continued in a deliberate rhythm. The wet tongue licking my ear, the talented hand stroking, the pulley slowly increasing the tension on my spine, Liz’s controlling hand pressuring my prostate, all sent signals to Little Sam that his immediate cooperation in giving up sperm was more than warranted. Except that Jamie, thrusting his flaccid penis into my side, would not moderate the angle of my erection.

  I moaned with the inability to culminate with an explosive climax. And I lurched and wriggled with abandon. Liz laughed and released some air only to within moments squeeze the bulb and refill the plug. And a smiling Jamie worked on, truly deriving pleasure from observing mine.

  And this, dear reader, was on tape. No sight of Liz; just me getting the most amazing hand job from the blond ingenue, and there could be no doubt as to his true gender. Jamie angled himself to plainly present his tiny flaccid and impaled penis to the camera. I could only imagine what his diamond encrusted golden balls looked like on video.

  I think my mind entered a state of nirvana. I do not recall how long I entertained my hostess and so lasciviously displayed myself before the camera.

  Finally, deep in my subconscious, I remember Liz giving the command, “Bring him off, Jamie.”

  Simultaneous to relinquishing the angle of my erection, Liz tugged the cord with firmness and filled the inflatable anal plug to its maximum. I exploded and thought I would be dehydrated from the fluids which forcefully departed and arched to the tile floor. There were at least four separate discernible squirts of semen before mere dribble announced that my organs were drained.

  The cords attached to the pulley went slack. Someone unhooked my wrist cuffs and I slumped to the floor.

  I had fainted. And when I came too, I spotted my clothes on the stainless steel table and there was no one to be found.

  I removed the cuffs and dressed. In departing, I could hear the sounds of lovemaking and girlish giggling emanating from the bedroom across the hall. The knob would not yield to my hand. The door was locked and I took that as a hint that a gracious thank you and farewell was not expected.

  I went home, the high level of emotion forcing me to think about my new friends: the authoritative and dashing Liz, the coy and pretty Jamie.

  ‘At least I was not flogged,’ I recalled thinking, comforting myself.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “So, you grace us with your presence again.” />
  Liz could be sarcastic at times. This was one of them, having been commanded to her apartment under the threat of blackmail, my presence could not be considered one of grace.

  I once again knelt in the examination room finding that the blonde ingenue Jamie had quite the skill for applying bondage. My wrists were again drawn behind my back and uncomfortably hitched to the broad neck collar. Cuffs also encircled my ankles but were not yet secured to anything. And all forced upon me by a lurid videotape.

  Jamie shaved my groin area, this time quickly removing the stubble which had accumulated over the past week. But on this occasion he also took the time to briskly slide the straight edge over my legs. He giggled as he childishly compared our hairless thighs...his so effeminately curved... mine still evidencing the athleticism of youth which twice weekly visits to the gym scarcely maintained. But the lack of hair was eerie in the mirrored reflection, and Liz caught me peeking when she stepped to the doorway.

  Jamie returned with her, having exited to answer the door. The sound of the ring put me in a state of consternation. But I calmed my concerns, convincing myself that Liz’s examination room would certainly be off limits to visitors.

  My eyes followed the pretty blue diminutive skirt to a cabinet and the dreaded anal plug made another appearance. Liz spoke as Jamie moved to my rear and dainty, gloved fingers again lubricated my sphincter.

  “I trust you’re not overly shy, Sam. I’m hoping that the past visits have eroded any bashfulness.”

  The inflatable anal plug wormed its way past my rectum. Before I could answer, Liz placed a hood over my head and then reached under Little Sam to use my scrotum as a leash, which she was wont to do.

  “I am having a little dinner party. And you’re a special guest.”

  Blinded, I was pulled to standing and my directional judgment told me that she led me into the capacious living room. The tube connected to the anal plug dragged along behind me on the floor along with the puffolator, producing some very bizarre sensations within my anal opening. Then there were voices. My skin turned anserine and in my extreme humiliation, Little Sam decided to draw everyone’s attention. I heard feminine laughter as he slowly stood while Liz continued her directing tugs.

  “This is Sam, everyone,” Liz’s voice called out with mirth.

  Numerous mocking female voices collectively chorused a ‘Hello, Sam’. I remained silent as Liz let go and I felt fingers about my neck collar.

  “He’s been well tested and will put on a good stand,” Liz announced as I felt familiar tension on the collar. Whatever was attached to the sturdy rings...cords, ropes, chains...forced me to my toes. Then I felt a spreader bar being hooked to my ankle cuffs and the anal plug began to expand with the sound of hissing air. And of course Little Sam saluted in earnest.

  I was happy to be hooded. I pictured little Jamie scurrying about with a serving tray looking perversely child-like. The thought of him dressed so wonderfully effeminate and acting as maid to a room full of women seemed to harden Little Sam.

  Then there was laughter, clinking glasses, the occasional exploring touch of a feminine hand on my penis and testicles. It was as if I was an ice carving at a fashionable bridal shower. But I had to endure comparative comments about my size, shaven pubes, the handsome circumcision which initially attracted Liz, whatever women will say when gaining the opportunity to view the male organs with impunity.

  And one voice...middle aged, confident, occasionally interrupting itself with a throaty laugh.., was frighteningly familiar. But I could not place the source...and in a way I did not wish to learn its origin. The owner of that voice took particular perverse pleasure in squeezing the puffolator and closely watching Little Sam’s reaction.

  After an hour or so, I did not regret the call to dinner, leaving me standing well bound and naked as the guests sauntered into the dining room. I believe I remained erect and could feel prostatic fluid streaming down my shaft to my scrotum. Gratefully, after a time, little Jamie came and soothed my wounded psyche, opened the valve to deflate the anal plug, then proclaimed the need to serve dessert and again left me alone.

  But then it was time to end the assemblage of voyeuristic termagants. And I was hoping that my ‘surprise’ would wind to an end. It didn’t.

  “Gather around, ladies, and we’ll view the ultimate in male lust. Despite this brute’s masculine virility, he’ll put his homophobia aside and respond to the well trained touch of another male…and he’ll so much enjoy it. Watch the hypocrisy as Jamie makes him erupt like a volcano. And I assure you, despite all else you hear and see, in the end he’ll ejaculate like a randy boy.”

  I recognized Jamie’s grip. Firm yet soft, bending Little Sam down at that impossible angle. I knew that despite my homophobia, my ingrained aversion to the male touch, as Miss Elizabeth so emphatically stated, I would soon be begging to be brought to climax, by another male, with the group of Dominant woman watching. I was the entertainment once again. And Little Sam was to disappoint no one.

  After many agonizing, pleasurable, ecstatic yet humiliating minutes, while Jamie stroked and twisted, I begged for release. I knew that Liz once again gave the nod as the inflatable plug expanded, the chains tightened, and my penis was finally righted to permit the expected explosion of sperm.

  There was a mocking cheer as I erupted. This time I missed frottaging against Jamie’s fine nakedness, his smooth warmness. But the presence of so many viewers added an element to the sordid scene that seemed to spur Little Sam to new limits. I am sure I flooded the floor with my ejaculate.

  Then, even more to my chagrin, Liz announced my surprise. “This one will be as much under my control as Jamie,” Liz proclaimed. And immediately after Jamie’s tender hands cleansed Little Sam and my scrotal sac with a pleasantly warm and moist wash cloth, something was being placed around the root of my penis and balls.

  “Just developed. An ineluctable cock cage. Locked in place with your hostess having the only key.”

  Something tightened around my scrotum and Little Sam. Then I heard a click and the spreader bar was removed and the neck collar released.

  Remaining hooded, I listened as the group bade goodbye and the gathering dispersed.

  “Good boy, Sam,” Liz offered as her hand once again turned my genitals into a leash. This time she tugged on what was locked around my scrotum. And I was led away. For the first time, I was permitted to be in Liz’s boudoir.

  Chapter Seventeen

  That Saturday night was one of the most frustrating of my life. I remained hooded with wrists and ankles cuffed, and worse my legs were bent back and the ankle cuffs drawn up behind me and hooked to the strap which held my wrists to my neck collar. I was hog tied.

  I knew it to be Liz’s bedroom because of the mixture of fragrant perfumes and lotions and the sounds of undressing and drawers being opened and closed.

  I lay on my side on a shaggy throw rug. It reminded me of something placed in the corner for the family mutt. I could hear Jamie and Liz hugging and kissing and then Jamie tended to me.

  When he knelt, I knew his clothing had been removed as he freely brushed his nakedness against mine. It was quite evident when he held a basin or some type of vessel for me to urinate. Whatever surrounded my penis and scrotum could be shifted enough to ensure a degree of neatness in the task, though I felt and heard my stream impeded by something. Relieving myself under the circumstances was a chore but after the long evening on display I did have to go.

  Then I felt the toes of Liz’s bare foot playfully rubbing my buttocks, needless action to obtain my attention.

  “We’ll talk tomorrow about your new role. The envelope with the videotape is addressed, tucked away and ready to be mailed at any time so I expect your behavior to be exemplary. But we will need to define what that behavior will be.”

  And then what little light permeated the hood disappeared and I heard the rustling of bed sheets, the girlish giggling of Jamie and the soft sultry commands of Liz. My hostess a
nd her sexual toy, judged to be completely naked, slept together in the carnal sense of the word.

  I listened to Liz being orally serviced throughout the night. She was insatiable, apparently waking Jamie several times to resume the endless pleasure. And there were no feminine shrieks with Liz’s numerous climaxes. Her ecstasy was celebrated just as she otherwise comported herself… calmly, authoritatively, and with panache.

  And Little Sam, locked away, could not even tumefy in his cage much less join in the orgasmic revelries. What surrounded my groin placed me in agony whenever he engorged.

  On Sunday morning, Liz arose and moved to the shower room. She apparently dragged Jamie along, for the bedroom was completely still but for the sounds of ablutions from the adjoining bathroom.

  After a time, a moist and steamy Jamie returned and kindly released each cuff long enough for me to stretch one limb at a time. Then he dutifully returned me to the strict bondage. The hood was raised far enough to have food spooned into my mouth, graciously offered by the tiny manicured hand of the blond maid. He remained naked, judging from the occasional feel of his warmth against mine. And I reluctantly had to admit it felt good to sense something with the hours and hours of dark isolation.

  Then Liz exited the bathroom, ignoring me. She left, taking Jamie with her, presumably at first to have breakfast, but the extended passage of time suggested otherwise.

  I spent Sunday blindfolded and hogtied on the floor. After many hours, urges became pressing and I finally had to soil the rug. When I tried to roll out of my own excretions, for the first time I realized that a leash or cord was also hooked to the hogtie configuration, very much limiting my range for even rolling about. Thus, I spent much of the day lying in my own fluids.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Jamie and I did some shopping and then took in a movie,” my hostess explained.

  I had been returned to the examination room where my bonds were removed after which I inexplicably hugged and kissed Jamie in gratitude. Standing under the open shower in the corner, Jamie soaped me as Liz watched. I was instructed to keep my hands on my head as the femininely petite hands cleansed. Jamie was wearing a tight, brief topless bathing suit and standing on a small stool. Liz was dressed appropriately for the Sunday afternoon of recreation.